


To Eternity and Beyond

by Elica



Series: Crossing the path of giants [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elica/pseuds/Elica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It as been seven years since the Hale left Beacon Hills. Stiles is now a nerdy teenager, a druid, and a lone kid. He has his best friends, he has his nemesis, he has his dad. But now he's gonna have to deal with something so much more important : vengeance, madness and, may be, love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I don’t want to choose

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks SolitarianKnight for the beta!
> 
> This is the edited version.  
> I'm going on vacation today (Paris \^o^/) and so will have time to work on my original writings. I'll still try to update this fic every two or three days.
> 
> I couldn't leave you waiting for the second part guys! So here we are ;)

_“Right foot on the front. Place your toes on the edge. Breathe._

_Crouch down and continue breathing. Calm.”_

 

“Take your mark…”

 

_“Breathe.”_

 

“Go!”

 

_“Jump off by pushing. Straighten your body when you hit the water and swim the fastest you can. Never forget to breath.”_

 

The water hit his skin and he began crawling. That was not his favorite movement, but he was good at it. Not _that_ good, no, but still, one of the fastest juniors of the county. He didn’t have to win a sport scholarship to go to the university in two years. Not like some others. But it could be good. Anyway, he liked swimming, and that was the most important part.

Stiles erupted from the water, gasping for air, after he ran the two kilometers race. Yes, winning was not the important thing, but still, he hated to be fourth on the team. And to be behind Jackson _fucking_ Whittemore.

 

***

 

“He’s already the Lacrosse captain! Why couldn’t he just stick to that?”

Scott managed to catch up with an angry Stiles, as they were joining Erica. The girl was waiting for them on a bench, enjoying the warm sun of this October’s morning.

“Maybe if you stop smoking, you would be better,” tried the boy. He breathed deeply, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m not smoking that much. My dad doesn’t know, and I can’t smoke with you guys, you and your fragile little lungs. And I literally live with you.”

“Still, Scott has a point here. You should stop.”

Stiles sighed, frowning.

“You are a bunch of angels trying to put me on the way of Good, right?”

“Nah,” said Erica, grinning. “Don’t forget our night tomorrow!”

“Yeah,” added Scott. He blushed lightly: “You think we could ask the new girl if…”

The trio was walking away from Beacon Hills high school, heading to the dinner where they were having their weekly lunch. Stiles was excluded from all “team lunches” because of his intellectual superiority (or his incompetence at socializing and hatred for Jackson) and well, he was working there three nights a week, so he had his way with the chef. “No Scotty. She’s invited to the Martin’s Halloween party.”

Scott made a face: “Are we still the only three people in Beacon Hills not invited to this stupid party?”

“Yep,” answered Stiles, entwining his fingers with Erica’s. “Because we’re the best.”

“I’d like to be included some times,” she said. “It’s good to be different but sometimes, you know…”

The two boys nodded as they entered the dinner. Five burgers, one orange juice and two cokes later, they were trying to decide what they would really do for the next day.

“My mum still thinks I’ll stay at home, so don’t forget to park Betty in the back street, Stiles.”

“Yeah sure.”

Stiles was on edge and his friends knew why. It has been seven years since their first Halloween together. It was a birthday of sorts for them, and they never missed a reunion after their night at the hospital. But for Stiles, it was a little more. A reminder of his first real encounter with Derek Hale, even if they had already known each other through swimming lessons.

“I’m taking the booze!” exclaimed Scott, dissolving the tension.

“Oh please, shout that directly in front of the police station, Scott.”

“Nah, everybody knows I’m talking nonsense half the time. I have to go now, or Deaton will be pissed.”

 

***

 

If he had to describe his life, Stiles would have a hard time. He thought his life was empty, annoying like any other teenager who lived in a small city would tell anyone. But in some perspectives, it was false…

Genim “Stiles” Stilinski, aged 16, was the only son of Beacon Hills sheriff, John Stilinski. His mother died when he was 9 and her death marked the point where his life became quite… strange. But before that… Stiles was a nerdy and geeky member of Beacon Hills High School. He warmed the bench of the Lacrosse team with his best friend Scott, but was one of the five members of the swimming team. He had been swimming for six years now, and liked that.

He worked three nights a week in a little dinner where he became an expert in cleaning tables, serving coffee and making sandwiches. He had a car called Betty he bought with some of the money his mother gave him in her will.

He liked to read but even more to learn. Everything and anything. With the right medication and the right amount of focus (constantly watched by his father). Stiles was the head of his school, along with three other students. Though his general behavior tended to make him disliked by the majority of the other students and teachers.

Stiles lost his virginity not on his 16th birthday, but on his best friend’s one. Erica asked for it, and they had fun. Mostly because real life wasn’t like a porn and it was quite difficult to keep serious with the girl you had as a prom date back in their middle school days and saw you in a too big suit and too green tie. Stiles tried to lose his gay virginity the same way, but his other best friend, Scott, refused. Thankfully Stiles made him believe he was drunk that day. But he knew that, if he’d ever get married, Scott would talk about this incident during his best man speech. Stiles thought he was a modern boy and didn’t believe in marriage. Go figure.

That was a life lots of other teenagers had.

And then there was the other stuff.

It was called his father, again, Deaton and the Deucalion pack. Yes, a pack, like a wolves’ pack. With actual wolves. Werewolves. And witches and faes and maybe vampires though Deaton never said if they existed or not.

Stiles was a druid in training. He didn’t ask for it and the power didn’t ask for him. Either could have lived perfectly without the other one but fate had a sense of humor. So here was Stiles the Druid. Haha. That made him laugh late at night.

So, when Scott was washing tiny cats in Deaton’s clinic during the day, Stiles was trying to transform ashes and powders into weapons during the night.

He had to keep his dad on board, since John Stilinski had been named protector of the city by Talia Hale herself seven years before. He was in the know and had learnt all he could about the magic world. He was Stiles’ only confident and, sometimes, it was not enough. Still, Stiles didn’t know how he could have survived if he had to hide all of this from him.

He had no real attachment to Deucalion’s pack. Stiles was going to be an independent druid or an emissary for the Hale’s pack. No other pack could claim him and that came also from Talia Hale herself. Stiles still had the letter she sent to them when he reached the tender age of twelve. It had been like a Harry Potter’s letter, minus the half giant and the storm.

Still, Stiles worked sometimes with one of Deucalion’s betas, since there was no more werewolves in the Hale territory. Since the fire, in fact, they hadn’t heard one thing about the Hales, except for Talia’s occasional and rare letters.

That was Stiles hidden part of his life, the one that his friends didn’t know but suspected, and the one that his father didn’t want to know, but suspected as well. Stiles had loved the Hales’ pack. He had loved the human Maria and his teacher Mr. Hale, who had died in the fire. And he loved Derek Hale, who disappeared in New York, and had never called back.

So Stiles was a 16 year old, a nerd to his school, an apprentice to a boring and mysterious veterinary, and a very, very, very lonely heart.

So when he decided to have his Halloween night in Beacon Hills cemetery, between the graves of his mother and his most loved passed teacher, he couldn’t really know what was about to happen to him…

 

Though, really, he should have.

 

 

 


	2. This is private property

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you wearing this year?”  
> He showed her his new Iron Man shirt: “vintage, my lady! It only cost me 10 dollars. The clerk didn’t know what he was selling.”  
> “Or it’s just Chinese reproduction…”  
> “Shame on you for implying such a thing!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SolitarianKnight for her fantastic beta! :)

Stiles lit his cigarette with deep concentration. It was a trick Deaton taught him two years ago and he bet the good doctor never thought Stiles would use it to light a fucking cigarette. His eyes flickered when he saw a little orange light and then the scent of smoke and tobacco. Satisfied, Stiles leaned back on his jeep, waiting patiently for Erica to show up. She was living in an apartment, third floor, and had used the fire escape since she was old enough to break out. They made their first delinquents night at 13 when they went to the movies all on their own. Erica came back before her parents took notice of her absence. They repeated that several times.

And now that Stiles watched her climbing carefully out of her window he realized how much of a cool friend she was. The real Catwoman. He had been lucky to find her, and thought, with a bit of pride, that she had been lucky to find him too. At school, people often mistook them for lovers. They were, but not like the others thought. It was so much better.

“Hey, Stiles. Get rid of that thing before I come closer.”

Huffing a laugh, Stiles dropped his cigarette and opened the Jeep’s door for her. She was wearing cats’ ears and a Catwoman shirt and that was all. They were going to spend the night in the cemetery; she didn’t need any high heels or an uncomfortable skirt. Just fluffy plaid and jeans, like him.

“What are you wearing this year?”

He showed her his new Iron Man shirt: “vintage, my lady! It only cost me 10 dollars. The clerk didn’t know what he was selling.”

“Or it’s just Chinese reproduction…”

“Shame on you for implying such a thing!”

Yes it was a Chinese reproduction, but nobody had to know that.

They drove happily towards the cemetery, taking the back roads to prevent any bad encounter, with cops or already drunk students. But the conversation died somehow as the car parked near the fence of the big dark place.

“I’ll wait ten minutes before I join. Go.”

Stiles smiled warmly at his friend and got out.

He came here twice a year with his dad: for his mum’s birthday and for Christmas, as they had been doing for years. But Halloween night was his night only.

Stiles walked up to his own place, or well, the place he claimed as his own years ago. It was a bizarre kind of luck that Claudia’s Stilinski’s grave would be about two feet far from the Hales. Three graves aligned against some older ones (Talia’s grandparents he guessed) There was the little Caroline, to whom he offered a tiny witches’ puppet he found six days ago in the hippy market. Then it was Maria’s grave, on which he put a cooking book, an old one with different recipes for chocolate no one would try nowadays. The last was Mr. Hale’s grave, Talia’s husband, Derek’s father, and his most precious teacher. For him, each year was the same gift. Stiles didn’t know if the presents were taken away by thieves, kids or someone, but still, he always gave the one book that linked them together, The Little Prince.

“I’m still waiting for my fox, Mr. Hale,” he said quietly, like a prayer. “But some days, I’m thinking, maybe it’s me that’s the fox, and a Prince is waiting for me? Who would ever know. Thank you for all you’ve done for me, for my father and the community. No one will ever forget you.”

He waited then for Erica to join him. They had a nice blanket to sit on, near the grave, and Erica brought sweets. Stiles had the famous Stilinski apple pie. They were just waiting for Scott to bring the drinks. The sky was clear and the stars were starting to shine when Stiles’ phone began ringing. Scott’s photo (an old one from their last Christmas) appeared on the screen.

“Hey buddy, what are you doing? You’re late!”

“Sorry, sorry. Just getting out of the clinic and… my mum’s car broke so I’m just going through a shortcut and I’ll be there in twenty!”

“You need a lift?”

“No, it’s alright. I got it.”

“Ok.”

Erica and Stiles eyed each other before laughing. Scott always had bad luck with important events. Thinking about him walking as fast as he could with three bottles of beer or whatever (which was illegal at his age) was funny, though Stiles really hoped he wouldn’t have an asthma attack tonight. Tonight was their night: living and being drunk with the dead, but without asthma, without epilepsy, without panic attacks. They were forbidden in the protectiveness of the cemetery.

 

“What are you doing here?”

They were just beginning to tear apart a bag of bear candies when the voice startled them. Stiles raised his head to see a boy, no more than twelve, skinny and dirty, behind one of the graves. He looked angry.

“What?”

“What are you doing? This is private property!”

Stiles tried a smile while Erica kept silent. She wasn’t at ease near children.

“It’s not, kid. It’s a public cemetery. And I, as the sheriff’s son, am here tonight to prevent any stupid Halloween’s tricks on the graves. So I am protecting these lost souls.”

“That’s not funny. You shouldn’t be here…”

Stiles tried to approach the kid but he was afraid he would escape. The kid looked like a runaway, and not someone who would find it funny to walk between the graves at night. He had to call his dad or Melissa or someone to take care of the kid. But first, he needed to gain his trust.

“Why are you so angry about us?”

“You’re eating on my sister’s grave!”

“No we’re not, we’re…”

And then Stiles stopped dead. The kid was standing behind Caroline Hale’s grave. That gave him one answer: he knew the kid and had played with him once or twice seven years ago. And multiple questions with the most important one: why was Louis Hale here?

“What…”

His phone rang again at this right moment. It was Scott. Stiles wanted to ignore it but his instinct spoke against him.

“Sc…”

“Stiles! I’ve been attacked!”

“What? Why? Where? Breathe, Scott, breathe! Where are you?”

His friends took a deep breath on the other side of the phone and spoke again:

“I’ve been attacked. By a dog or something. Something big, Stiles! I don’t know. I’m bleeding!”

“Where are you? I’m coming to get you!”

“I’m… not far from you, just… Keep talking to me, ok?”

“Alright, buddy. What happened?”

“I was just in the preserve, for the shortcut and… This thing charged at me and… bit me! God, Stiles I’m freaking out!”

Erica was already getting her Taser in her bag (a gift from her overly protective father). Stiles had put Scott on speaker. He was dying to find Scott, but with no idea where he was, he couldn’t risk to get lost. The edge of the preserve was just nearby. Scott would be alright, he tried to repeat to himself.

But no, he couldn’t stay where he was.

“I’m coming Scott. Stay where you are!”

“But…”

“Don’t move!”

The kid looked pale and frightened.

“He’s going to die,” he muttered. But Stiles hadn’t the time to ask him. He was a Hale, alright. He wasn’t supposed to be here, hell, Stiles knew this too. And if a Hale was here, maybe it was linked to Scott’s attack. But Scott was more important now. So he took Louis by the hand and forced him to follow. Erica was with them, a look of deep concentration on her. Stiles knew she was trying to keep calm, even if that wouldn’t do anything if she was about to have a seizure or not.

“Scott, we’re going to the Preserve. Send me your location. We’ll be here asap!”

“Ok. Be quick. I think I’m gonna black out.”

“No. Just breathe, ok? Don’t move. Try to cover the bite with something. Ok? I’ll call your…”

Stiles eyed Louis, thinking fast.

“I’ll call Deaton.”

“Deaton? Why? He’s not a doctor!”

“Er, yeah, yeah. Of course. Just… Stay here.”

Scott wasn’t that far, maybe ten minutes from the cemetery.

“If it’s my father,” said Louis. “He’s gonna die.”

Stiles stopped so violently the kid nearly fell over.

“Peter is here?”


	3. Don’t panic, Scott, you’re a werewolf…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ok Scott. Don’t panic. Tonight you might die. If you don’t die, you’re gonna be a werewolf. Yippee!”  
> “Stiles. Werewolves don’t exist.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to SolitarianKnight and her friend for the beta!
> 
> Sorry about the delay, been here and there, in holydays and sick and so on :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles’ mind was racing so fast. He hadn’t even enough time to think about panicking. His world was crashing and falling apart and his best friend was going to die and a werewolf he had known was crazy was free and running wild in Beacon Hills. Great. Halloween was supposed to be a protected and peaceful night. Go figure.

They ran to the point where Scott was supposed to be. And there he was, his shirt tore up and covered in blood but still alive and breathing.

“Oh shit, Scott. Are you okay?”

The boy looked sheepishly at Stiles: “I don’t know? Like, really, it was hurting like hell two minutes ago and now… I don’t know.”

Stiles sighed. He looked briefly at Louis and then at Erica. What could he do now?

“Can… Can I see where it bit you?”

Scott shrugged and pointed his left side. There was so much blood, but under it all he could see the distinct mark left from the fangs.

“And you’re not feeling anything?”

“It stings a little. Er, Stiles? Who’s the boy?”

“A runaway. But really Scott, you don’t want to puke, to sleep, to cry? Nothing?”

“Since when are you a doctor, Stiles?” asked Erica, a deep frown on her face. “Why aren’t you calling 911?”

“I… I can’t! If I call them, they’ll see you here, and you’ll have problems with your parents!”

The look  on Erica would have been funny if the situation hadn’t been so dangerous.

“Really, Stiles? My parents’ problems are more important than Scott’s life?”

“Well…”

“ Genim Stilinski! Don’t try this shit with me, you’ll know you’ll lose!”

“Ok…”

Stiles passed a hand in his hair. The three of them were eyeing him with curiosity for Scott and Erica, and boredom for Louis.

“We’re going to Deaton,” decided Stiles.

“My boss? But why?”

“I can’t tell you now but please, trust me. This isn’t a normal bite Scott. You really need to do as I say.”

 

It took them nearly twenty minutes to reach the Jeep. Louis was silent but didn’t try to run away. Stiles needed to call his father too, about Scott and about the little Hale. And about Peter. The guy could be dangerous, for all he knew. Though he loved Peter Hale, he was aware the guy hadn’t been in his right mind since the fire.

They took another twenty to reach the clinic after Stiles had sent Deaton a text telling him to meet him there. He really hoped the emissary would check his messages because if not… he didn’t know what else to do.

Thankfully the door was open and Stiles took everyone to the backroom where Deaton was waiting for them.

“So many people, Mister Stilinski. And Mister Hale. I’m delighted to see you. Though I didn’t have any message from your alpha telling me you were going to visit.”

Stiles sighed. His master’s cryptic words weren’t going to help.

“Ok, Scott has been bitten.”

“I can see this. Sit on the table, Mister McCall. I believe you find this situation a little strange, but there are some logical answers.”

Anger was beginning to boil up in Stiles. He really, really didn’t like to censor himself and his _no filter no remorse_ way of thinking and speaking. So he didn’t.

“Ok Scott. Don’t panic. Tonight you might die. If you don’t die, you’re gonna be a werewolf. Yippee!”

“Stiles. Werewolves don’t exist.”

“Sure. If you die, you won’t know. If you don’t, you’ll know I’m right. Now Deaton’s gonna examine you and I’m gonna drive this little guy to my house.”

“And what about me?”

Stiles had totally forgotten about Erica. Scott was still upset with his attack, but Erica was intelligent, clear in her mind and maybe angry.

“Miss Reyes will stay with us,” said Deaton.

Stiles looked skeptical.

“No strange stuff with her mind, right?”

Deaton smiled: “Of course not, Mr. Stilinski. She has a place here.”

“Okaaaay… Well… come with me Louis. You have to meet the sheriff now.”

 

***

 

Dad was watching some old horror movie on TV. His shift had ended lateinthe evening. He had argued someone had to be home to give kids candies, and since his son was at his annual cemetery visit, he really had to be home. He may have given his deputies another excuse or maybe they liked him enough to give him his evening.

Anyway, Stiles found him half asleep on the couch, a bottle of empty ginger beer in his hand. He didn’t frown or whatever. His dad was free to drink beer and light alcohol during feasts, and some stronger ones if he was on a hard case. He just had to be frank with his son and was still seeing his doctor once a month. They had a good life now, though it had been difficult in the beginning.

"Hey Dad! Fancy seeing you here!"

The sheriff woke up with a lack of start that spoke years of experience. He looked at his son and then at Louis.

"Can you tell me why there is a Hale in our house?"

"How can you tell he’s a Hale?"

Stiles father got up and walked to Louis, his hands on his hips.

"It’s the eyes, son. I’ve never seen eyes like these except in the Hales."

Louis was suspicious with Stiles but he seemed more at ease with the sheriff.

"I know you," he said. "You were at the barbecue when Cora ate too much and you had to run to the toilet with her."

"Quite a memory you got. So, would you accept to sleep here tonight? We have a great guestroom."

Said guestroom had been the Stilinskis bedroom once. But after his wife s death, John couldn’t bear to sleep there anymore. They had kept the room as it was for months and then decided to make a guestroom out of it. It was also a library where they kept all their normal books. The magical and mystics’ ones were in Stiles closet and in the sheriff’s office. Where nobody could see them.

Louis nodded almost shyly. Stiles took him to the bathroom and cringed when he saw how the kid was skinny under his shirt. Like he hadn’t eaten well for months. Wasn’t he supposed to be under the protection of a pack? Was that the way they treated humans?

Stiles had studied the way packs interacted and what the social constructions could be like in one. The way Louis undressed and let him wash his hair without any annoyance spoke volumes. Louis had lived in a pack for a long time. And now Stiles had to determine if there had been an history of mistreatment or harassment toward the boy.

It was Franck Hale’s first pack. How could they...

"You ok buddy?"

Louis looked at him in silence before nodding.

"Ok," said Stiles. "I am gonna let you finish your shower and go find something for you to put on."

Back in his room, he picked up sweat pants and a shirt. Louis would be swimming in them but at least he would be warm. A glass of warm milk and a ham sandwich were waiting for Louis. Stiles already knew that whatever his dad put in the milk would knock the kid out. But Louis was so hungry and tired he fell on the mattress and closed his eyes as soon as he finished the sandwich.

Stiles observed the kid for a minute, wondering how his life was like this. He was sixteen, he was supposed to do pranks and stupid things on Halloween night. He should have broken into the Martins’ party, for example. And here he was, taking care of a child, closing a hidden path on the room windows – a simple stick of wood, made of mountain ash, that could close a full circle around the house; each windows and doors of the Stilinskis’ had one and he already knew his father had closed all the other ones as he felt the power deep in his veins. How was this his life?

 


	4. The Stilinskis, the magic pair.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They still managed not to speak about the elephant in the room. It was funny to discuss Stiles’ obvious crush on Derek – obvious for his father at least. It was natural to talk about what should be done for Louis. What they didn’t speak about was the alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks SolitarianKnight for her beta ^^
> 
> Don't forget, comments are always very appreciated.  
> And then a warning: I'm doing nanowrimo this year, so I may be even more slow than usual in the updates. Sorry!

“What did you use?” asked Stiles when he came back to the kitchen.

His father was doing the dishes and Stiles suspiciously eyed a bowl of pancake batter.

“Some infusion Melissa taught me to do when you were young.”

“You poisoned me? Dad! I feel betrayed,” said Stiles with mocking horror.

His father turned his head to him:

“You had a lot of nightmares Stiles. I didn’t think about it for months because of my… condition.”

He didn’t say alcoholism. Some words were banned from the Stilinskis’ house.

“But when I began to be a real father, I noticed. And you needed to sleep. Especially after the Hales left so…”

“That’s why you sent him to bed before asking anything right? ‘Cause you knew that a kid like this would just break into tears or make a tantrum.”

John Stilinski smiled: “I raised you good.”

Sensing they were seconds away from hugs and manly tears, Stiles changed the subject, not noticing, at all, the wink in his father’s eyes. _At. All._

“So, Scott has been bitten.”

“I know,” his father sighed. “Alan called me when you were with the kid. Scott seemed to be good, though a little… suspicious about what you said to him.”

“Well, nobody can really believe that werewolves exist, right?”

“Except you, kiddo. Talia told me she hadn’t seen anyone being quickly trusting to a wolf. But it may have been because the wolf was a certain boy…”

“Right, dad. So, we were talking about Scott. You know? My best friend? Your best friend’s son?”

The sheriff let himself laugh at the redness of his son’s face before answering.

“So, Scott will certainly survive the night and be a werewolf. The first thing I have to do, is telling Melissa.”

“I could go with you.”

“No. You’ll stay with Scott, he’ll need you.”

“And Louis?”

“I’ll tell Melissa to come over. Alan will be there too. We’ll handle this. I’ll stay at home to look after the kid.”

“And Erica? She was there too.”

Stiles didn’t miss the blank face his father put on. He had never been a good liar. That’s why Stiles was not a good liar either.

“Dad…”

“You’re nearly an adult Stiles, so I’m going to trust you. This is a secret only three living people are aware of. The fourth one died in the fire.”

Stiles frowned but waited for his dad to continue.

“Franck Hale wanted his wife to give the bite to Erica. They wanted to wait for her to be eighteen or for her health to be too weak for her to bear it. It was a big decision and Talia was not sure about it. But then her husband died and she… she wanted it to be her husbands last will.”

“Whoah…”

Stiles was taken aback. A very old conversation rose in his memory, where the Hale’s alpha, angry with Mr. Hale, told him he, Stiles, was an excuse for another kid, a girl. He hadn’t understood that day, too shaken by Derek’s wolf and the big discovery of his friend’s nature, to understand. But now it was all clear.

“Will you call the Hales?” he asked. It should have been his first question though.

“Kiddo, who do you think I am? I called Talia’s father’s pack as soon as I saw Louis. I hadn’t the news of Scott then, but I’m keeping her updated. She was aware her brother had escaped though.”

“What did he do?”

“She told me he was calmer and saner these last months, so he asked to go see his kid. They sent them to San Francisco but then he made a… I don’t know, it wasn’t clear. He didn’t recognized Louis and broke. It was two days ago. Peter is on the loose but the San Francisco’s pack didn’t consider it their duty to find him.”

“And what about Louis?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know how they could let a kid this age run away.”

His father didn’t understand and was angry. Stiles used the only way, apart alcohol, he knew could calm his father a bit, and rose to take ice-cream from the freezer. A big pot of chocolate with cookies in it. Too much for his father’s health, but good for his mind.

“So, Talia’s coming?”

“She’s far away and has to deal with San Francisco first. But her second in command is coming tomorrow morning.”

World crashed suddenly on Stiles’ shoulder and he couldn’t stop a shudder. But if Laura was coming that didn’t mean…

“Derek’s coming too, obviously. Cora had joined them last year to finish high school in New York, but she has an aunt there and doesn’t need her brother to be there for her. And, according to Talia, Derek’s good with kids. He’ll be the best for Louis.”

Stiles couldn’t breathe but it wasn’t a panic attack.

“Son, do you need me to give Derek the _Talk_?”

“Oh dad, please…”

 

***

 

They still managed not to speak about the elephant in the room. It was funny to discuss Stiles’ obvious crush on Derek – obvious for his father at least. It was natural to talk about what should be done for Louis. What they didn’t speak about was the alpha.

Beacon Hills had been put under the protection of the Sheriff and Alan Deaton, though none of them could take part in any supernatural stuff except if it threatened humans. It hadn’t happened, or Stiles would have known because of “ _Curiosity”_. There was a pact with Deucalion’s pack, but no wolves were admitted into the Hales’ territory, with the exception of the betas that Stiles trained with.

And Peter Hale, though his craziness, was not an Alpha. Since Talia was still alive. He could have killed one, but when, where, and with what strength? It could be a possibility, though Louis seemed convicted his father was still a beta, when Stiles asked him why he thought Scott would die if Peter was the one who bite him.

So there was an unknown alpha in Beacon Hills, biting a kid that hadn’t asked for it.

Stiles turned in his bed, trying to sleep and failing at it. There was an alpha here, in his town, and he was frightened by it. Talia Hale had terrified him when he was a kid and she was angry and strong. The alpha’s meeting he had witnessed with Derek years ago had given him nightmares for years. But still, he knew Talia was a friend – more or less – and that the alphas would never hurt him because he was under the Hales’ protection. But an unknown alpha?

He sighed in his quiet room, knowing that he wouldn’t sleep at all now.

So he sat up, put on a sweater and socks – he had cold feet like an old man, don’t judge him – and started his computer. He didn’t know what he was searching for and, after two hours of procrastinating, he began an essay that wasn’t due until after Thanksgiving. He may have been a little off subject but still, when the sun started rising, he was awake and ready for a very stressful day.

Which was not that stressful since the first thing Scott told him when he arrived at the clinic was: “I don’t have asthma anymore!” And the second one: “My boss is even creepier as a wizard than as a veterinarian!”

“Emissary, Scott, not wizard.”

“Same thing. Look at what I can do!”

Stiles knew what a werewolf could do, but he smiled at his best friend’s demonstration of strength and speed.

“So you’re not frightened?” asked Stiles after an hour.

Scott sat on the floor, facing him, and sighed. He had always been cheerful. His motto was to be happy to make his mother happy. His parents’ divorce had been hard and Stiles knew part of the reason they had a guestroom was because of Scotts multiple visits that could not be taken as sleepovers anymore. In their duo, he was the optimistic one, even when everybody saw Stiles as a clown and the funny one. But now Scott had a serious face on:

“Of course I am. I am afraid for my mom.”

“My dad is speaking to her.”

“I know but… what if she thinks I’m a monster.”

“She’s lived with you for sixteen years. She’s used to it.”

“Fuck you!”

“My pleasure.”

They smiled at each other and then Scott spoke again: “Deaton told me a bit about packs and omegas but he said you would be better with the details?”

“Nah, he just doesn’t like to be educational. He prefers keeping his speeches cryptic.”

He thought a bit about it. He had studied this particular point but he didn’t want to present it to Scott with the harshness of a study book.

“See, werewolves are like wolves: they live in packs. Since they also live in human society, it’s a little bit more complex but, basically, it’s that. Some packs are real mini societies, and others are just families. The Hales are an only family. They’re small but powerful. Each wolf born in a pack has a position in it but it’s pretty simple: there’re betas, the alpha, the alpha’s spouse and his second.”

“Ok. How are the Hales?”

“Talia Hale is the alpha. Peter Hale was her second but now it’s Laura – you don’t know her.”

“And everyone else are betas?”

“Yes. Most of them are wolves but some of them are humans. Like Louis we saw yesterday. Some packs though don’t want humans in their structure. So they marry other wolves or give the bite to the future spouse. Some packs are even more conservative and won’t ever deal with humans, except for formal socialization, like building a house or having a job. Well, I’m sure some packs are real hippies and don’t meet humans ever.”

“What is Deaton’s position then?”

“Emissary. He isn’t pack, but he is the… magical link between the pack, the other supernatural world, and the humans.”

“So if a wolf attacks a human…”

“He doesn’t react. That’s the hunters’ rule.”

“Hun…”

“And we won’t go there today because it’s not funny and it’s not your problem. You’ve got another one: you’re an omega.”

“What?”

“It’s not a sickness, I swear, but you don’t have a pack. You could accept your alpha’s calling, the wolf who bite you will want to see you surrender to him. But I won’t advise you to do that. But if you don’t accept it, you’ll be alone, and it’s a paradox. Being an omega is not a good thing. So you’ll need to choose a pack and be accepted by it.”

Scott had listened to him and then they discussed for hours. His friend had problems with the idea of a pack. He had his family – his mum, Stiles, even Stiles’ father. He had his life – finishing high school, asking the new girl Allison for a date, working at the clinic. He wasn’t ready for another life, with strangers who would not accept him as one of their own, and hunters that would be on his back soon enough.

It was difficult and Stiles was aware of this. So he promised Scott to be able to answer any questions any time of the day when Deaton came back. Scott’s mother and the sheriff were waiting for him at the McCalls’.

Scott’s new situation had diverted Stiles from the other subject of the day, and he had nearly forgotten it when he opened the door of his house and heard a deep voice singing in the living room:

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star_

_How I wonder what you are!_

_Up above the world so high_

_Like a diamond in the sky_

_Twinkle, twinkle, little star_

_How I wonder what you are_

 

There was a man, broad shoulders, dark hair and stubble. He was sitting on the couch, Louis on his lap, sleeping with his thumb in his mouth, like he was four and not twelve. The lullaby continued for a minute and then the man stopped, knowing, Stiles thought, that the kid would not wake up. So he rose and put the kid back on the couch, neatly covered by a blanket.

When they were just facing each other, at nearly the same height, Stiles couldn’t stop himself stuttering:

“D… Derek?”

“Stiles,” he answered with a private smile.

Maybe Derek wouldn’t be very open to hugging right now, but from all he knew, Stiles didn’t care. He hadn’t known how much he had missed his friend until this moment.

 

**Author's Note:**

> http://fourrureetcapuche.tumblr.com/


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